Scarred (Bullied Book 5) (Bullied Series)

by Vera Hollins

  I couldn’t stand him. I couldn’t stand seeing him here, in this place. He was tainting it.

  I needed him out. I needed him out of this room and out of my life.

  “Get out,” I hissed.

  “Not until you come with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” I was shaking with fury. “I don’t want to go to his funeral! Do I have to spell it out for you to understand? Get out.”

  “Wait—”

  “OUT!” I grabbed an old book from the stack of books on the floor and threw it at him. He dodged it, backing away. I stalked toward him.

  “Will you just—”

  “Out! Get the fuck out!”

  I reached for a lamp, but he backed out of the attic before I could throw it at him. I dropped the lamp and slammed the door in his face, locking it. I slid down the door and wrapped my arms around my knees, crying my eyes out. All I wanted was to be alone. Alone to drown in my pain. To forget life was a cruel thief that had stolen my brother away from me.

  To forget that no matter how much you tried to control everything, something would slip out of your hands and crash, never to be repaired again.

  The sun was low on the horizon when I stopped next to Steven’s grave, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, contrasting the darkness inside me. The wind hummed quietly in the distance, swaying the branches of the trees in a hypnotic motion, but it had no calming effect on me.

  His grave marker was surrounded by flower arrangements. My heart clenched at the sight I’d hoped to never see.

  This was surreal. Someone was definitely playing a joke on me. Steven couldn’t be here, buried underground forever. He just couldn’t.

  I didn’t even tell him I loved him.

  I closed my eyes and willed myself to take deep breaths. To keep going. To stay strong when I wanted to just curl myself into a ball and be weak and miserable.

  As I cradled my injured hand against me, I opened my eyes, my lips trembling as I formed a smile.

  “I’m fashionably late, but I’m here now.” I cleared my throat and forced a cheerful tone out of my mouth. “You’re lucky, really. I could’ve gone on a trip to the Bahamas or, I don’t know, Malaysia, but I decided to grace you with my magnificent presence. You should be honored that someone as important as me devoted her time to come here and visit you instead of tanning and eating ice cream on some faraway beach.”

  My heart twisted painfully in my chest, my trembling smile falling. I could almost see him rolling his eyes at me and telling me I was babbling. I could almost hear him say I wasn’t in my right mind and I should check to see if they had dropped me at birth.

  “Maybe they did drop me at birth. That would explain how I could put up with all your shenanigans.” Smiling hurt. Talking hurt. Remembering hurt. I didn’t want any of this.

  But memories rushed back at me anyway.

  “Remember when I was five and I caught a cold, and you fed me blueberries because you thought they could magically cure me? You said you saw it in some cartoon, so of course you had to try it out. But then I got hives and Mom and Dad rushed me to the hospital, and then we found out I was allergic to blueberries. You were crying for days because you thought I could’ve died, and I had to act like a big sister and comfort you. Such a crybaby.

  “Then when I was seven, you convinced me to climb a tall tree with you. Mom went nuts when she caught us, and Dad almost broke his arm helping us come down. You and I made a secret pact to climb a tree where Mom and Dad wouldn’t see us next time. They never caught us again.”

  I let out a chuckle, and an ache spread through my chest. “And when you were eleven and you got your first kiss, I went to your crush and told her you had cooties. You didn’t want to talk to me for the rest of that week.”

  More chuckles poured out of me, each hurting more than the last.

  I had to stop. Memory lane was killing me. There would be no more new memories with him. We wouldn’t do anything together ever again.

  I took a shuddering breath and just stood still, too exhausted to move. It could’ve been minutes or an hour before I heard someone’s footsteps. I didn’t bother to turn around.

  “You came,” Dad said, stopping next to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

  I shrugged off his hand, my gaze fixed firmly on the ground. “You know this is your fault, right? You always pressured him. You always wanted a perfect son, and when he didn’t want to go to college, you threatened to disown him.”

  My words sliced deep, but Dad wasn’t their only target. They were meant for me too because I felt guilty, myself. Steven had been right. I’d always been so judgmental, always so full of venom and hate. Always ready to explode and do anything to get my way.

  I closed my eyes. If only had I been more supportive and patient with him, things would’ve been much different. If only I hadn’t attacked him for every little thing . . . If only I’d zipped my lips instead of saying those disgusting things. If, if, if, if . . .

  A powerful shudder rocked my body. I’d wanted so badly to fix him that I’d failed to see I was only making things worse. I was too stubborn. I didn’t listen.

  He hadn’t needed me to fix him. He’d needed me to understand him.

  “I know, Meli,” Dad said, his voice hoarse. “And you don’t know how sorry I feel. I wish I could turn back time. I wish I’d listened to him more.”

  I’d expected him to contradict me, but this . . . this admission of guilt hurt even more. I smiled ruefully. If only we could turn back time. If, if, if, if . . .

  I looked at Dad. His face was unusually pale, drawn into a mask of regret, and part of me gloated. That part of me wanted him to feel as guilty as possible. That part wanted him to suffer for neglecting Steven and not showing him love. But I didn’t want to succumb to that part. I was filled with enough bitterness already.

  “What now, Dad?” My voice broke.

  His lips quivered. “Come here.” He pulled me into a hug. “We’ll get through this. We’ll see what we can do to move forward from here.”

  To move forward from here . . .

  Steven was dead.

  Mom and Dad were divorcing.

  I was just one broken, lonely, hateful girl.

  How could we move forward from here?

  He held me silently as the susurration of the wind created its simplistic tune, reminding me that life went on, as much as I wanted it to stop and move backward. How could I even think about life without Steven? Life without him felt wrong. It felt like I’d entered someone else’s life. Not mine. My life was with Steven in it. Happiness without Steven didn’t make sense.

  Dad’s hand on my back moved in what was supposed to be a soothing motion, but it didn’t soothe me. I’d never felt lonelier than I did now. I felt dull. Empty.

  I felt so empty that I almost missed Dad’s whispered words that cut through me.

  But they were there, impossible to unhear.

  “I know this is absolutely not the right time, Meli, but still . . . happy birthday.”

  By Wednesday, I’d almost convinced myself it hadn’t been real. I convinced myself enough to resume my routine and go to school, even though Mom wanted me to take the whole week off to grieve. I’d spent more than enough time locked in my room, ignoring all calls, texts, and even a visit from Sarah and Jessica, persuading Mom to tell them I was asleep, until I decided I’d had enough. Withering away in my room wouldn’t bring back Steven. Torturing myself with questions and alternate scenarios wouldn’t bring him back. He was dead, and I didn’t want to stay between those four walls any longer.

  Coming to school was another slap of sickening reality. I entered the halls he would never enter again, and it was as if I could see him at every corner with his laugh reverberating off the walls. This was another place where I would never see Steven again.

  Some students stared at me, and I forced myself to keep walking, each step heavy and like I was trudging through mud. I was almost tempted to ma
ke faces at them just to give them something real to talk about, because all that staring was getting on my nerves.

  I stopped when I saw my friends waiting for me next to my locker. Their worried looks created a fresh wave of pain in my chest. I attempted to smile, so I could erase those expressions from their faces, but then Sarah pulled me into a hug, and my blank mask almost broke.

  “We were so worried about you,” she said, holding me like I could disintegrate at any moment. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you, but . . . How are you?”

  I grinned, but even to me it felt more like a grimace than a smile. “Pretty good, seeing as I’m about to suffocate. You’re holding me too tightly.”

  The moment Sarah released me, Jessica pulled me into her version of a suffocating hug, and I had to think about almost anything else so I wouldn’t show them how awful I actually felt.

  “Hey! I mean, I know I missed school for two days, but it’s not as if I was gone forever!” I strained to keep at least a half-smile on my face.

  But then she whispered into my ear, “We know you’re not okay. You don’t have to smile.”

  The words drew a quick breath from me. I closed my eyes, bunching my brows, and I returned her hug not because I needed her comfort, but because I wanted to hide my shattered expression. Steven would’ve called me a wimp if he’d seen me falling apart at something as simple as a hug.

  “What are you saying?” I said with a chuckle. “I’m always okay! Even more than okay! I’m having a blast.”

  She just hugged me even more tightly, and I grew silent, at a loss for words. I’d relied on myself for so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like to rely on others.

  Friends had always come and gone, and I’d never formed strong bonds with them, but all that changed when I met Sarah and Jessica. Maybe it was because I’d found something broken in them too, or maybe because they were the nicest girls I’d ever met, but it was easy to be friends with them.

  However, no matter how much I loved them, I’d never been able to open up to them. I didn’t want to bother them with my problems, and I didn’t want their pity. I didn’t want them to see me as weak. Besides, there was no point in worrying them when they couldn’t do anything to help me. I could fight my own battles. Always had and always would.

  But seeing them now, I realized they knew far more about me than I’d thought. They paid attention. And they wanted to be here for me and give me a shoulder to lean on. It was so hard to stay strong on my own when they looked at me with all that worry—when it felt like relying on them just this once wouldn’t feel like a failure after all.

  I clamped my wobbly mouth shut and let Kevin and Marcus pull me in their embraces as well. I noticed Masen next to Blake and Hayden. His face was completely serious. That moment from the attic returned to taunt me, and I grimaced internally. What was he doing here? Did he expect me to make a weeping spectacle out of myself again? If he’d come expecting to witness another weakness he could use against me, he was dead wrong.

  I tightened my jaw, ready to fight him, but he only said something to Blake and Hayden and then left.

  “Also . . .,” Sar started and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a small blush covering her cheeks. “It’s probably not the best time, but . . . Belated happy birthday.” Her lips formed a small smile.

  “Yes, happy birthday, Mel,” Jess joined in. “I know you might not want to, but we can celebrate it if you want. Just say the word.”

  I gave them a tight-lipped smile. “That’s all right. Who would want to celebrate getting older anyway? It just means I’m one year closer to ending up in a casket, so thanks, but no thanks.”

  Sar and Jess glanced at each other. They didn’t find my dark humor funny, but I understood. Wrong timing and all.

  “Then we won’t celebrate, but just spend some time together,” Jess said. “Okay?” She squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone.”

  My lips pressed into a thin line, I nodded and approached my locker. Hayden was leaning against the lockers with his arms folded across his chest, and I met his silent gaze. Understanding blared from the depths of his eyes. Hayden was familiar with loss because about two and a half years ago, he’d lost his twin brother, Kayden, when Kayden jumped in front of a car to save him. The look on Hayden’s face only served to intensify the hurt that had been running the show inside me ever since I found Steven on Friday.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked me.

  I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and opened my locker. “My lips are hurting from the smile I’m carrying all the time.”

  “At least your comebacks are still strong.”

  “When everything else fails, comebacks are the answer.” I raised my fist in the air in a falsely cheering move. “Say . . .” I looked away, feeling weird for what I was about to ask him, but I had to know.

  “Yes?”

  I took a quick breath and looked back at him. “Does it ever get better?”

  He didn’t reply. His unblinking eyes grew a shade darker as he observed me, which was answer enough.

  I grabbed the book I needed for my first class, smiling bitterly. “So, the pain doesn’t really go away, does it?” I asked quietly so only he could hear me.

  “It does, in a way,” he finally said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that one day you’ll wake up, and it won’t be the first thing you think about the moment you open your eyes. But it will always remain a part of you.”

  I thought about his words as I went to my classes, thinking how I would rather drink gasoline and shampoo together every day than feeling this pain forever, but once again, I was out of control, and even more so when I arrived at my Government and Politics class, which I shared with Masen. He was a loose end I had to tie up pronto, before the damage spread like wildfire.

  I felt uncomfortable knowing he’d seen me at my lowest and could do whatever he wanted with that information. Not even my family knew what was beneath the hard shell I’d kept around myself for years, but now the guy I hated most had gotten it handed to him on a silver platter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already disclosed it to half of Enfield’s population.

  He was talking with a girl, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest and an almost blinding grin on his face, but the moment he saw me, that smile dropped. I headed for my desk, which was right behind his, but his legs were in the way, impossibly long and annoying.

  “You’re blocking the way,” I hissed at him. “Move.”

  I was ready to take him on if he planned to fight with me, but he only straightened up and looked away, letting me pass without saying a word. I gaped at him, because that wasn’t like his usual gorilla self, but then I remembered what he’d said in the attic—that he wanted to stop fighting me. I found that hard to believe.

  Our arms brushed against one another as I passed by him, and a strange shiver rushed down my spine. I sat in my seat and rubbed my arm almost unconsciously. I’d say this reaction came from my aversion to physical contact with guys, but it didn’t fully feel that way. It didn’t make sense.

  Frowning, I tried to tune out his conversation with our classmate, but it was impossible to block the sounds of his raspy laughter and her overexcited voice. They flirted shamelessly with each other, her hand touching his shoulder and arm too often, and it was getting on my nerves.

  I twirled my pencil between my fingers faster and faster as I stared at my notebook, seconds away from telling them to go out for coffee and talk there instead of yapping so much here.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the girl went over to her desk. Good riddance. I didn’t miss the glance Masen shot me before he sat down, as if he expected me to make a scene, which wasn’t a far-fetched expectation. I would make a scene, all right, if he’d babbled about how he’d seen me to anyone.

  I aimed my pencil to poke his neck to get his attention, because there was no way would I touch his disease-infe
sted skin, but then I remembered the countless scars that marred his upper back, now hidden under his white T-shirt.

  I felt a pang somewhere deep inside of me. They had looked nasty, like he’d been through literal hell when he got them—

  No. That was none of my business. Pity and compassion had no place here.

  I poked his neck with my pencil, and he looked at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

  “I want to make sure you won’t babble about Sunday. What you saw never happened, got it?”

  He turned back to the front. “What are you even talking about?” he asked, his voice flat, playing along. I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to find the catch. There was no way he would accept letting it go so easily.

  “I better not find out you’ve told everyone about it already.”

  “I didn’t.” His voice was filled with aversion. “If I had, don’t you think the news would be all over the school by now?”

  “Good. Because if you do say a word about it to anyone, I’ll tell the whole school about those ugly-ass scars on your back.”

  He stiffened for the briefest of moments. Someone else might not have noticed it, but I’d always had a keen eye for details.

  “How the fuck do you know about them?” he asked, still facing the front.

  “Let’s just say you should think twice before you decide to parade in front of me in only a towel next time. You never know when some incriminating photos could come of it. You wouldn’t want people to see them, right?”

  I saw him fist his hands at his sides. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath. “Your brother just died, and all you can think about is blackmailing me to keep your ass safe?”

  I bit my lip hard, almost drawing blood. This bastard.

  “Never drop your guard in front of your enemies, Barbie. That’s my motto,” I said in a falsely cheerful voice, hiding the anger inside. “Not even during grieving.”

  “Says the girl who cried like a baby on my shoulder,” he fired back immediately, and my pulse went crazy with anger.